Sometime, I think, there's got to be
A night that glitters just for me:
A gorgeous, swishing, low-cut gown
For wining, dining on the town.
Exotic perfume on my breast,
A fancy hair-style, all the rest...
With all that's shining in the skies
Reflected in my dazzled eyes.
Before I grow too old to wear
The dress...
The perfume...
Fancy hair...
1 comment:
You're never too old! Delightful poem, I imagine this is similar to what Cinderella may have been thinking!
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